


The path of shadows. Not a shadow anymore

by Taera



Series: The path of shadows [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Available in Russian, Drama, Gen, I'm sorry Shay, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Taera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all had barely started, then abruptly had come to an end. He wasn't able to save his Creator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The path of shadows. Not a shadow anymore

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Путь теней. Больше не тень](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283712) by [Tatrien (Taera)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Tatrien). 



> I was crying by the end of writing it, and until recently I couldn't make myself open the file and translate it. Now, I've done it.  
> It hurts me so much т.т
> 
> Not beta-ed, all mistakes are mine.

“We trained you well… traitor,” spat Kesegowaase.

“ _You_ are the traitors,” Cormac hissed, with a well practiced move he pulled out an iron stake from its holster and thrust it into the Indian’s heart, delighting in the way he cried out in pain and for a moment lost connection with the reality.

“You are an enemy now,” hoarsely forced out Kesegowaase. Almost blind from anger and full of revenge, Shay twisted the stake, quickening the absorption of the poison. “Achilles… will see you dead.”

“What he’s doing is _wrong_!”

“Who are you to judge? Coraxes will fail. _You_ will fail. Monro… is already… dead,” Kesegowaase barely managed to speak through the pressure on his throat, looking down at Shay with a triumph in his eyes and a sneer on his lips.

Feeling white-hot spike of rage just from hearing such a notion, Shay twisted the stake one more time and pressed Indian’s tomahawk harder to his throat, leaving him near to no air to breathe.

“What do you mean?!” Cormac snarled, almost losing control over his instincts, that for the last five minutes were shouting at him “ _Run! Destroy! Seek out!_ ”

Several times Kesegowaase tried to say something, but to no avail. The black web of veins was already spreading up from his neck — iron poisoning. Roaring, Shay twisted the stake once more, turning Indian’s heart into a mash. He knew that that way was only hastening Kesegowaase’s death and lessened his own chances of getting so much needed information, but he couldn’t contain his anger.

Wheezing, Kesegowaase gathered the remnants of his strength and spat to Shay’s face one word: “Liam”. After that he succumbed to agony, writhing. Capillaries all burst, bloody tears flowing from his eyes, the burn, not yet fully healed, had darkened and inflated — suddenly, incredibly quickly.

Freezing to the spot for a moment and trying to understand what exactly Kesegowaase was trying to say, Shay had felt how something deeply in him snapped with a sharp and piercing sound, the sudden pain blinding him, making him feel as if there was a stake buried in his own chest, and hungry flames were licking at his arms and legs.

A second after that he heard excruciating mental cry. Call for help.

Master Monro!

Horror, pain and rage filled Shay to the core, and with a sharp shout he had torn Kesegowaase’s head away with his bare hands — he did not want to give the Indian even a miniscule chance of surviving — and, not giving a damn about people all around him, Shay ran, responding to the call of his Master, praying to all gods that he won’t be late.

Black puffs of smoke in the clear sky were the answer.

When an injured soldier cried out “The Colonel! He’s trapped inside!”, Cormac hadn’t stopped even for a second, he dashed right into the burning house. In the air, he could clearly sense the aftertaste of Liam’s power, every last flame tip, every sparkle was drenched in that not-quite-smell of his. Ignoring burns and pain in the throat, scratched dry with hot air, Shay almost blindly searched for his Master, unable to hear him over the aroma of Liam’s magic. And with each passing moment Shay hated his old childhood friend stronger that before. But no anger could compare to what he felt when he finally saw his Creator.

Bloodied, with stakes rammed into his body, more than ten of them, and not even one piercing his heart or head. Thiswasnotamurder. Thiswaspuretorture. Revenge for Shay’s Initiation.

“Master!” running up to him, Shay dropped to his knees and stood there for a second, having no idea what to do. He was too blind from rage and despair to think clearly, but when the ceiling beams cracked loudly, threatening to fall at any moment, Shay snapped back to reality. Shaking off smoldering charcoals of himself and his Master, Cormac picked him up and, ignoring the burning of iron, carried him to the exit, as far from the unnatural fire as possible.

Monro looked like he was already dead, his mental presence near to nonexistent, and above the cravat the first jet-black curves of poisoning became visible, growing quickly. Despair fell in a suffocating wave, the urge to fall to the knees and wail almost unbearable, but Shay continued to walk stubbornly. Maybe he was telling something to his Master, trying to calm him. Maybe he was doing it only in his head, trying to calm himself. For very soon — too soon — he will lose his Creator. And he could do absolutely nothing to change that — at this stage, the iron poisoning was irreversible.

Shay had no idea how they ended up in a deserted courtyard, he just felt an urge to stay without witnesses, he felt that no-one must see the death of Master Monro. Yes, many would sense it, but they wouldn’t see. Perhaps, they wouldn’t even feel the pain, likes of which was now gnawing Shay from the inside, with every movement splashing at him like a pungent acid.

When Shay carefully put his Master on the ground, he wheezed in pain and with a great effort opened his inflamed eyes. He looked at Shay.

“The Manuscript… an Assyf took it,” Master’s voice was weak and rustling, and after those short words he shuddered with spasms. But he never groaned — he bit through his lower lip, but let out no sound of pain.

Whimpering like a wounded animal, Shay tried to lessen his Creator’s misery; gently, he helped him to lay his head onto his lap, avoiding unnecessary movements, he tried to give at least a drop of his own powers — without any effect. If only he had come several minutes earlier, it would have only took several human lives to reverse the first stage of poisoning, even as severe as this one. But he hadn’t come. He hadn’t heard. He failed his Master.

Feeling Shay’s anxiety, Monro made an attempt to smile soothingly, but instead his bloodied lips got twisted into a painful grimace, the tears — not red, no, completely black now — like a loud cry of doom and despair. With a monstrous effort Monro took off his ring with a Corax’s blazonry on it and offered it to Shay.

He only managed to whisper “Shay”. It was the first time he called him by name. The first — and the last. Master’s eyes rolled, his body twisted in a horrible agony, soundless and fatal.

When big reddish tears fell from his eyes, Shay did not feel them. He knew nothing except for how he unsheathed his dagger and with one merciful stroke ended his Master’s sufferings — cut his head off. All Shay’s inner self wailed, demanded he save his Master, protect him. Because it is the most natural thing in the world — to wish his Creator well. It was unthinkable, for a Child to hurt his Master. Unfortunately, the only way for him to save his Creator now is to end his agony.

Shay did not know how much time he spent sitting near the body which turned into dust; he wouldn’t be able to tell that even if with that information he could bring Master Monro back to life. Suffocating apathy covered his mind like a thick cloud. Inside, emptinessrang. Complete, hopelessemptiness. Where before Cormac could feel mental presence of his Creator, now awful hole was gaping, scratching with ragged edges, chilling bones to the core.

Master Monro was dead.

Master Monro was killed.

Gust of air brought the smell of smoke from the smoldering house, and Shay sensed remainders of Liam’s power in it; ineffable mental aroma, it would not have been possible to confuse it with anything even if Shay wanted to do so. Blinking, abruptly he snapped out of apathy. He saw Gist, frozen to the spot in several feet from him, his face pale, his hand nervously gripping saber’s handle.

Then came painfully vivid memories. Joy and pain, admiration and despair. Came the understanding, that nothing could ever be repeated. Only memories left now.

Unable to endure it any longer, Shay threw his head back and howled, hopeless. In the sky, the shamefully merry sun was shining, indifferent to all and everything.


End file.
